The 27th Hunger Games
by rbwrites
Summary: This is the story of Marri Harken, the female Tribute for District 11 in the 27th Hunger games, her mentors, and how they try to help each other heal their broken lives. * Please note that this story is intended for a far more Mature audience than the actual Hunger Games books and will have some explicit content. *
1. District 11

**District 11**

. . . . . .

It's noon, or close to it. The sun is high in the sky and relentless as it beats down on the busy farm workers of District 11. The only rain that the residents have seen in over a week comes from their own pores as beads fall from their skin to the soil beneath them. It's hot. So very hot. The only clouds in the bright blue sky are small puffs of white, barely clouds at all, and offer no relief of shade. They stay motionless up above as there is no wind to move them. The only relief these workers receive is when the Clock Tower in the Square finally strikes noon, signaling lunch, the only break in their 14 hour work day.

All at once, the sprawled out, hunched down farm workers of the wheat fields uncurl and place down their tools in their work spots. Most let out sighs, some smile, and they turn to the east in the direction of the wheat field's canteen. Most use whatever energy they have spared to walk as quickly as they can without running, motivated by the promise of cool water once they get there. Some struggle to walk at all, trying to push through the dizzy haze that the heat has put them in.

Farthest out in the wheat fields, away from small clumps of the other workers, a teenage girl is crouched down in the middle of tying up her newest pile of wheat that she has cut when the sound of the noon bell reaches her. She is the only one that lets out a long sigh before uncurling her back to stand upright, letting the rope slip from her hands and unravel its hold around the bundle, making her last minute or so of work a waste. She doesn't care. She can't wait another minute until she can feel cool water on her skin. She drinks the last big sip she has saved in her old water bottle. The water is warm.

The ragged off-white t-shirt and pants of her uniform are rolled up as much as they can go, exposing her skin to the scorching sun rays. Her skin is a mix of old pale golden tan and new bright red sunburn. The skin of her lower back and sunken stomach that are revealed between the gap made when rolling up her shirt has become dark red and she can feel it peeling. The matching off-white cloth of her torn old uniform is wrapped around her head, soaked completely through with sweat.

She is working farthest in the field today because she does every day, and like every other day she arrives at the wheat field canteen last. Her fellow workers already have their wooden bowls in hand, filling them with water from the fountain wall, gulping it down or pouring it onto their hot and tired bodies. She am eager to join them, but before She can cross out of the wheat and into the open canteen yard, a Peacekeeper approaches her, tall, a large gun in one arm. Without saying a word he reaches out his empty arm expectantly. The girl realizes that she had grabbed her machete by accident and brought it with her from her work spot. She lifts my arm and hands it to him. He takes it and steps aside to let her pass.

She reaches the table by the fountain with the water bowls and finds the one with her name scratched into it, carved by her 8 years earlier. The first letter, the letter M, is giant compared to the others. The other letters are barely readable, but it doesn't matter. Everyone knows that this is her bowl, and no one ever tries to take it.

She exchanges small talk with those who speak to her as she fills her bowl to the brim, carefully bringing it to her mouth, and gulping it down. No one has much energy to talk, they are just too exhausted, but many try to anyways. Lunch and the water fountain beforehand are the only times that some of the workers ever get any social interaction during the Harvest.

Today, as it has been for the past week, the main topics of conversation are complaints. The heat, the lack of a breeze, sun burns, sun blisters, headaches, how terrible everyone smells. The complaints are followed by questions, Why hasn't it rained? When is it going to? What will this do to the crops? To us? Can everyone _please_ bring soap next time so lunch isn't ruined by the collection of everyone's body odor?

There is a dinging of a triangle, and food is served at the long wooden tables under the army green tent of the canteen. The tables by the entrance fill up quickly, so the girl walks towards the back corner to one of the half tables, where she sees Gragg, his long gray hair looking particularly wiry in his ponytail, and Betha, her dark skin showing through her water drenched uniform.

She sits down next to Betha, trying to keep her eye sight from going anywhere near the front of her body, as the girl knows from past experiences that it will be completely visible through her wet shirt and that the 46 year old woman doesn't believe in under cloths.

As soon as her bum touches the seat, she hears the sound of soft thumping of 10 little hands on the wooden table, as the 5 youngest wheat farmers scramble onto the leftover seats. Pika, an 11 year old with her shoulder length blond hair pulled into two buns on either side of her head, makes to sit next to the girl. But before she can scoot a foot, a pair of very dark, thin arms block her way. Two small hands plant themselves on the table in front of him, and 9 year old Shiro jumps over the bench and sits right where Pika was moving to.

Pika makes a whining noise at Shiro. "No way, Pika." He says to her. "I always sit next to Marri."

Even though Shiro is being a brat to Pika, Marri giggles and smiles down at him. "When did you become so assertive?" She asks. He shrugs his bony shoulders and reaches out for the food laid on our table.

Down the tables center are the usual dishes: plates of slightly burnt bread and stale crackers, bowls of bruised and overripe fruit, old or squashed vegetables. No one complains about the food though, as they are too busy shoveling as much as they can into their eager mouths. Marri grabs a fist full of grapes from one of the fruit bowls and drops them into her own bowl. She picks one up and pop it into her mouth. It lands in her right cheek and she bites down. Immediately her mouth is filled with an awful taste.

"Bleh!" She says, squirming in her seat and then spitting the rotten flesh onto the dirt floor behind her. She turns back to her bowl and makes a disgusted face, smacking her tongue around her mouth in attempt to get rid of the taste. Almost everyone at the table is laughing at her.

"You gotta pinch 'em first, Marri." Betha says, smiling with a mouth full of cabbage. "How many times are you going to eat a sour grape before you learn?"

"I couldn't wait, I'm just so _hungry_ today." Marri replies in a mock whine. The others laugh again. When is there a day when they aren't so hungry?

"Hey, these apples look pretty good today! They aren't all that beat up!" Shiro informs the rest of the table, his small body propped up in his seat to peer down at the red fruits.

All at once every arm is shooting out to the two bowls of apples, which are usually ignored for being so covered with brown or purple bruises that they are rarely edible. Each hand finds one now though, and after they each peer down on their apples in intense inspection, they join each other in a chorus of crunches as they all bite into them.

"They're even hard!" Cries a delighted Pika, who bounces up and down in her seat with excitement.

"They taste _good_." Says Martin, 14, his soft voice barely heard over the continuing crunches. But those who heard him nod and "Mmm" in agreement.

"Good catch, kid." Croaks the grizzly voice of Gragg from the opposite end of the table as the kids. "Nice to see that one of you brats can be useful."

Marri rolls her eyes at Gragg and says, "Oh don't be so grumpy, Gragg. We aren't forcing you to sit with us."

"I sat here first!" He protests, bits of apple flesh spraying from his mouth. "It's because _you_ sit there that they all came to this table."

"Man, you're just jealous that they like Marri so much and no one likes you." Chimes Betha with her mouth full of her last bite of apple.

The children and Betha all laugh, but all in good fun. It's true that Gragg is grumpy and irritable all of the time, but they all know that they end up sitting at the same table together every lunch time this Harvest because of they actually liked each other. And even though Gragg acts like it bothers him, Marri always see him smiling to himself whenever one of the kids tells a silly story, or makes a funny face, or when Betha gives them some strange nonsensical bit of wisdom.

Though they are sitting in the shade, Marri notices a darker shadow creep across her bowl on the table before her, and for the first time in days her insides go cold. It is a very familiar shadow, with very familiar tousled hair.

"Marri.", says the shadow. "I told you I wanted to eat lunch with you today."

_Oh no._ Marri panics, but from years of practice she is able to compose herself in half a second. She turns in her seat to face the shadows maker, putting her face together in what she hopes is an expression of concern and surprise. She looks up at him, her cousin, Derik. He is standing in a relaxed stance, his hands in the pockets of his own off-white and dirty uniform pants. He gives off an air of slight amusement, making a face of mock hurt. But Marri can see in his dark brown eyes what he is really feeling. But if Derik puts up a show, so does she. She tries to suppress the sickening fear bubbling inside her and does her best to keep her voice steady as she says, "Derik! Oh no! I forgot!"

"You forgot?" He smiles down at Marri for everyone else's benefit and she adds, "It's so hot today, my brain is so cloudy, I haven't been thinking straight all day." She slides her mouth into a sheepish smile. It's a weak excuse, and she knows Derik can see right through it.

"Oh, no worries Marri." He says, flashing a bigger, brighter smile. "There's still about 10 minutes left. Why don't you come finish your lunch with me?" He turns to the others at the table, making sure to make eye contact with Betha, Pika, and 13 year old Carla, who everyone knows finds Derik attractive. This small gesture works, and even the boys are willing to let Marri leave without an argument. If it had been anyone else, they all would have protested, told whoever it was to buzz off, but never Derik. It makes Marri hate them a little at how easily they are fooled, and how they practically throw her at the most dangerous person in her world.

As Marri stands, she feels as if she will hurl all of the food she has just eaten, and tries not to fall over as she swings her legs over the bench, which is difficult as they are trembling. She has made him angry. Very angry.

Marri says her see you laters to Betha, Gragg and the kids, and tries not to cringe when Deriks palm presses against the small of her back, leading her away from them, away from everyone, and out of the tent.

He doesn't stop pushing her forward until they are out of sight of all the other farmers, where they are only in the presence of the Peacekeepers, their backs facing them as they guard the edge of the wheat field. All of a sudden Derik's palm pushes harder against her back, shoving her forward, and she is thrown to her hands and knees in the dirt. Marri gasps as she is caught off guard, and the closest Peacekeepers, turn around to look at her. Derik lets out a gentle laugh and says for their benefit, "Oh Marri, don't trip! You'll rip your uniform again." Under the watching eyes, Derik reaches down at her and grips her upper arm, pulling her up to her feet as if she were made of wheat. He does not let go. He pulls her close to him, increasing the strength in his hand around her arm. It hurts and he knows it. He is causing as much pain as he wishes. He jaw is clenched, his eyes glaring down at her with furious impatience.

"Derik, I really did forget." Marri tries to lie again. She keeps her voice calm, refusing to show him how much he is hurting her.

"Shut up." He growls. He jerks her even closer, leaning his face down towards Marri's until his nose is practically touching hers.

Like everyone else, the hot sun makes Derik's body odor much more potent, and this close it is suffocating. Marri fights not to gag, so nauseated that she has to swallow hard to push down her rising lunch. She switches her breathing to her mouth, but it doesn't help, because now instead of apple, she can taste his scent. Touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing, all of her senses are once again accosted by him. She has trained herself so hard not to feel it, to keep her cool, to not care, but she is weak from the heat and she can't push out the sensations she hates and know so well. _Why do I have to feel them now, the imaginary hands that are crawling all over my body?_

He lets her go. He steps back. Marri realizes it is because of the approach of two Peacekeepers. She is filled with further dread as she recognizes who they are. Quint and Naymen. _Really? Is this a joke?_

"Well if it isn't the lovely Marri!" says Naymen in a tone that implies that they are friendly with one another. Chums, even.

"Enjoy your lunch today, beautiful?" Quint asks in his creepy voice that he believes is supposed to be charming.

Normally, with the freedom to walk away from them, Marri would play dumb and ignore them on the spot. If she were in a better mood, she also might respond with a cutting comment. But not now, not with Derik here. She is panicked, still frozen, now stuck between three young men, all looking at her with eyes that make her time and time again want to claw off her own face.

Or at least, she assumes they are all looking at her that way. She can't muster up the courage to look at any one of them in the face. Instead she finds a rock on the ground about 10 feet away and choose to stare at that. She is holding her breath. She is waiting for Derik to say something, do something horrible, but seconds pass and he is staying silent. But Marri can feel it, his rage, radiating off of him and directed at her. _God I feel so sick._

"Aw, ignoring us again? Even though we came all the way here in the sweltering heat just to visit you today in the wheat fields, you can't even muster a hello?" Naymen says in mock hurt.

"Well I guess it's not all a loss." Quint says. Out of the corner of Marri's right eye she see him take a step closer to her. A chill runs up her spine. "Seeing her like this makes it worth the trip, don't you think? I like your hair wrap, Marri. And look, Nay, her shirts rolled up all nice like that. It's all burned but you can see her bare mid-section, and it's so..."

_He is going to touch me, I can sense it. No. God no. This is so bad. The second he touches my skin, Derik will lose it and attack him without hesitation. Once he does he will be shot down like a dog by every Peacekeeper in sight._ It is a dream come true, but at a price. Marri knows that if they shoot him, they shoot her too. She has a millisecond to react, and all she can think of is gently rushing into Derik, putting her face into his chest and her fists under her chin. As expected, Derik puts his arms around her. He speaks, and Marri can tell that he is forcing himself to smile at Quinn and Naymen as he says, "Sorry boys, my cousin really isn't feeling well today. She is such a hard worker, but even this heat takes a large toll on her. I hope you'll forgive us, I am going to go take her to get some more water."

And once again Derik is forcing her somewhere, though this time his entire arm is around her like a vice, and he is leading her to the canteen. Relief washes over her as she realizes she has successfully averted what could have been an incredible disaster.

Marri can see Shiro and the kids, Betha, Gragg, and the other works rising from their tables as they approach, and for the first time in her time as a wheat farmer, Marri is glad that lunch is over. She can return to her spot in the fields and be alone, away from everyone again. But before Derik lets her go so he can return to his own job of working one of the tractors, he does one of the things that Marri hates the most. He puts his face close to hers again and kisses her on the cheek, in front of everyone, and smiles his sweetest smile down at her for proper effect. "I will see you at home." He says as he puts his hand back to where he had gripped her arm before, squeezing it one more time as hard as he can. Marri is able to keep the yelp of pain from leaving her throat, she maintains an aura of calm, and then she watchs as Derik turns his back on her and walks away. With each step he takes, the fear in her chest drops and drops, and the one feeling that she always keeps there in his absence comes back: deep, all-encompassing hatred.

Marri can not get deep into the wheat fast enough. She grabs her machete from a Peacekeeper and keeps a steady pace until she is out of sight. Then she runs. The wheat whips at her arms and stings her face, but it makes her run harder and harder. When she reaches her pile of wheat, she drops to her knees in her work space, panting. She rips her sweat soaked hair wrap from her head and stuffs it in her mouth. She leans over, put her head towards the ground and curls herself into a ball. Then she screams. And screams. She screams until she gets weak and dizzy, which doesn't take long. She takes the rag from her mouth and takes deep breaths until her head is clear again. Then she slowly stands back up straight. She lifts her machete above her and then she plays the game she has played every day of the Harvest since she was given her working tool.

Imagining Derik, imagining her uncle, imagining her Aunt, Quint, Naymen, all of the other Peacekeepers who leer at her, who try to talk to her or touch her, her worthless and ignorant neighbors, anyone who has ever made her angry, she whips her machete at them. With her blade she cuts down the imaginary figures that surround her. She hacks off their legs, their arms, their heads, or stabs them repeatedly in their torsos. She slices off the skin on their faces, cuts off their noses, scalps them, pokes their lost limbs on the ground with the machetes' edge. For hours she can play this game. For hours she is lost in it. It is good fortune that even with her mind stuck in this imaginary world she creates she is able to cut enough wheat for her quota. Sometimes she cuts more. It is this game that makes her work bearable.

It is this game that keeps her sane enough to be prepared for what awaits her at home.


	2. The Capitol

**The Capitol**

He opens his eyes to a dim room, his vision too blurred to quite make out the dark shapes around him, but the sliver of light that shines through a gap in long bulky curtains shows the young man that it is day. Morning, maybe early afternoon, it doesn't matter. With the way his mind and body feels as he wakes in another unfamiliar bed, no time of day, no orders, and no amount of noise could keep him from staying just where he is. Nothing, he thinks, except for the smell of morning saliva.

If he hadn't made the effort to turn his face away from the light he would not have smelled it, but with the awakening of all of his senses, his nose couldn't hide from the scent, and now that it had there is no hope of ignoring it. He fucking hates the smell of saliva and the puddle of drool that has settled into the pillow of the woman lying next to him is downright repulsive to him. His eyes have adjusted and he looks at the make-up streaked, decrepit face of whomever the fuck she is, and he goes from wanting to never leave this bed to practically jumping out of it.

He regrets instantly that he is naked. Why does this woman keep the air so fucking cold? It had been so warm under those big fluffy blankets, so damn soft and comfortable. A thought that he had the previous night comes to him, that as soon as he had first landed on them he would make this woman make a gift of them to him. But now that he knows the bitch has the audacity to drool over them he wants never to touch them again.

He looks around the room he had spent hours in the night before, almost alarmed that what he sees is completely unfamiliar. He could have sworn that everything had been red, the curtains, the bed, the walls, the ridiculously giant vanity, even the hair of the woman. But now that he is seeing it all with sober eyes he sees that he was greatly mistaken. The walls are periwinkle. The curtains are dark purple. The bed is purple and gold. The floor is white and the woman's hair is yellow. The young man shrugs. He thinks the room looked much better when he still had the drug cocktail racing through his veins.

He looks around and finds the black and red suit the yellow haired woman had him wear last night crumpled on the floor by the end of the bed. At least one thing had actually been red. He rummages through the pant pockets and finds his pack of cigarettes and his lighter to have his morning smoke. He can't remember if the woman minded if he smoked in her room, but he doesn't care either. He sits at the end of the bed and lights the extra-long cigarette and inhales deeply. After a moment he slowly lets out a long stream of smoke. He runs the long fingers of his left hand through his long dark hair and looks around the room again, this time for anything that gives an indication of the time. He finds none. Grudgingly, he gets off the bed and walks over to the window.

The window had looked differently last night as well, not just the color of the curtains but its size. Last night it had seemed absolutely enormous, like it expanded across the wall and up onto the ceiling, with its curtains flowing magically in slow motion around it. But now he sees that while the window is a large one, it is nowhere as big as it was before and that it has no way of being opened to allow wind through. The curtains lay dead against the thick glass. He braces himself for the bright daylight the curtains are blocking as he uses his hand to sweep one slowly to the side.

He looks out and then down as he discovers that he is in a room high above the ground, but still low enough for him to recognize the street below. _Good_, he thinks, _Ceneba Street_. He knows exactly where he is and that getting home will be easy. What won't be easy is having to tell the yellow haired woman that he is leaving.

Luckily, the woman is still feeling the effects of the drugs they took. If he remembers correctly, which he thinks he does, the woman took as many as he had. Being at least 25 years older than him and clearly a health wreck, this woman probably will be in this state for the rest of the day. _Good_. He gently walks over and around the bed to the side the woman is sleeping and drooling on. He wrinkles his nose with disgust as he looks down at her. _What a mess_.

He uses his free hand to gently shake the woman's shoulder and waits a moment. She doesn't stir. He tries again, less gently, and increases the force until she is finally roused from her sleep. She turns to face him, her face covered with sweat and black eye make-up, and then smiles a smile that makes the young man want to cringe again. But he knows better. He knows how to handle a person like her. So instead he spreads his lips into a bright and charming smile as he looks down on her with fake affection.

"Good morning." He says in a soft and alluring voice, knowing that his nakedness will also work in his favor. "I hate to wake you when you are sleeping so peacefully, but I have to leave and I don't want to without saying good bye." _Because if I don't you will cause problems for me, won't you?_ He adds to himself.

The yellow haired mess gurgles something back. Then she clears her throat and tries to speak again. "Don't leave. Stay." She reaches a slightly flabby arm out from under the covers and takes a hold of his forearm. It takes all of his will power not to rip her hand away.

"Of course I want to stay, but if I do I will be in terrible trouble." He croons. "And if I get into trouble I won't be able to see you again." He arranges his face into a dramatically sad one as if to say that not seeing her would break his heart.

The woman sighs and nods sadly but does not let go of her grip on his arm. Instead she pulls his arm towards her and lifts her dirty face up towards his. She clearly wants him to kiss her good bye, and the young man shudders. He loses his effort to smile as he leans down, his breath held tight, and gives the woman's slimy lips a short kiss, then she finally lets him go and falls immediately back to sleep.

The young man recoils from the bed and rushes into the direction he believes the bathroom is. The closed door he opens first is the right one, and he enters and shuts the door back behind him. He turns the water on in the sink and drops his cigarette butt into it. Then he cups water with both hands and splashes his face, vigorously rubbing his mouth where the woman's lips had been. He looks through the ridiculous amounts of bottles of lotions and soaps until he finds mouthwash. He fills his mouth and gargles and spits twice before finally looking at himself in the large rectangle bathroom mirror.

A pale and tired face looks back at him. The cheeks are slightly gaunt. The long green eyes look much larger than they used to, the whites are slightly pink. The smooth dark hair that reaches square but bony shoulders is tousled and greasy. Though he doesn't look nearly as disheveled as the yellow haired woman, the young man can't help but admit that he doesn't look so great either.

After finding some lotion that doesn't smell too feminine and slathering it on his arms and neck, the young man exits the bathroom feeling satisfied with his successful escape plan. That is until he realizes that the only thing he has to wear home is the fancy red and black suit that still lies rolled up on the floor. _Damnit_. It is not the best outfit to wear for someone who wants to walk through the streets of the Capitol in the middle of the day unnoticed. _Looks like I'll have to take something from her closet_.

Knowing that the woman is too deep of a sleep to notice, he rummages through her extensive and bizarre collection of clothing. He searched through her closet, then her drawers, until he finally finds something acceptable. It's an over-sized simple black t-shirt. The material suggests that is meant for comfy bed wear for women, but as he puts in on and looks at himself in the mirrors of the vanity he decides that he looks like any normal skinny guy wearing a baggy t-shirt. Not being able to find pants as fitting as the shirt, he has no choice but to wear the wrinkled black and red suit pants on the floor. He puts them on and arranges the shirt in a style to suggest that he is just another messy styled teenager in the Capitol, or close enough. He ruffles his hair for the right effect, tucks his lighter and cigarettes back into the pants pocket, and finds his sunglasses in one of pockets of the suit jacket. Finally ready to vacate, the young man opens the bedroom door and exits, closing the door quietly behind him.

The yellow haired woman may be an idiotic sloppy mess with no morals, but she sure is rich. It takes a few tries of weaving in and out of large and elaborately decorated rooms until the entrance to the apartment is finally found. From there leaving the building is much easier, and within a minutes time the young man is out the front door of the apartment building and onto the busy Ceneba Street.

It is a bright day in late spring. The air is dry and the glare of the sun reflecting off the shiny buildings would be blinding if he didn't have his sunglasses already on his face. Though the other citizens of the Capitol would deem this another beautiful day, the young man feels sick and ragged and hungry. His stomach starts to growl within his first few steps down the street. If he had been allowed to bring his wallet last night he would find some food to buy before he headed home, but having his own possessions on his person during one of his appointments was not allowed. And so he walks through the crowd on Ceneba Street, his head down and his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched as he weaves carefully through other pedestrians in order to go unnoticed.

He hates the time after his appointments almost as much as the appointments themselves. If he was allowed to have his phone with him he could try calling someone for a ride instead of having to be at a constant threat of being recognized and ambushed. Walking home through the crowded streets of the Capitol invites the opportunity for someone to spot him, for pictures to be taken and autographs to be signed. This sort of thing was what the government wanted to happen, but he hates the government as much as he hates every person in Panem who considers themselves his "fan". He has had enough practice losing himself in a crowd if such an event occurs, but he much prefers that he get home in peace than have to deal with troublesome girls and women before getting there.

But today is a lucky one as his apartment is reached without a single person shouting his name. He presses his index finger firmly against the fingerprint lock screen and once his print is recognized his door slides open. Before the door is even fully closed behind him after he enters he is tearing off the woman's clothes and leaves them on the floor as he walks straight into his bathroom. He turns on his shower and steps inside, where he stands under gushing scalding hot water with his eyes closed, standing the pain of the heat for a length of time he does not measure.

He is taken out of his stillness by a sudden banging on his bathroom door.

He is so startled by the sound that he slips and bangs his shoulder into the stone wall of his shower. His heart is beating like drums in his ears. With the sound of the drumming and the rushing water, he can barely hear the voice that starts yelling to him from the other side of the bathroom door.

"KAELIN!" Booms a deep and familiar voice. "KAE, DAMNIT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?!"

_No, of course I don't. That fucking idiot of a woman doesn't own a clock. _He curses to himself as he takes deep breaths to calm his nerves and heart. _I didn't look when I got home because I only fucking cared about getting clean._

The deep voice outside the bathroom barks again. "KAELIN. Do you even know what TODAY_ is_?"

From the way he said it, it seems that today is supposedly an important one, but, _Nope, don't know that either. Tuesday? A holiday?_

Since Kaelin does not answer him out loud, the man behind the door says, "Kae, you stupid ass, I'm coming in." And without a moments pause, the bathroom door slides open, and into the steamy mist created by the shower storms a dark skinned middle-aged man, nostrils flaring. "Kid, what the fuck are you doing? Boiling yourself?"

"Fuck Ames, I'm taking a shower, you mind?" Kaelin replies.

"Yeah I do mind, shit dick." Ames says as he puts his fists on his hips and stares through the shower glass at Kaelin, skin red from the heat. "It's almost 4:00 in the fucking afternoon and we've got to be at the station in 40 goddamn minutes and you're in here cooking yourself!"

Kaelin feels like he's been slapped in the face as realization dawns on him. He had such an automatic habit of blocking negative information from his mind that he truly forgot what today was. He bangs the side of his fist against the shower wall where he hit his shoulder a minute before.

"Fucking finish, alright? Since I know you didn't pack your shit I'll go do that for you." Ames leaves the steamy room cursing to himself about how he has to do everything for "this kid" like he's his mother or something, his voice cutting off as the bathroom door slides shut behind him.

Kaelin turns the water temperature down and picked up his shampoo. He lathers his hair and rinses then moves on to his body and face wash. He is finished within a couple of minutes, turns off the water, grabs a big fluffy towel and quickly dries off his skin and ruffles his hair and then wraps the towel around his lower half and steps out of the shower. At the sink he brushes his teeth for a time longer than necessary and then combs through his hair, drawing a straight side part that makes his shorter layers sweep over the right side of his forehead. Because it is too fogged up he can't see himself in the mirror, but he doesn't mind.

He leaves the bathroom into his bedroom and immediately sees Ames shoving some clothes into a suitcase on Kaelins unmade bed. Seeing him enter, Ames tells him, "You'll just have to like the clothes I picked for you. There's no time for you to be picky about shit." Still rushing, Ames walks towards Kaelin then brushes past him to walk into the bathroom while saying, "Get dressed" in a commanding tone.

Kaelin saunters to his dresser. His underwear and sock drawers are already opened from Ames. He grabs a pair of each and puts them on without removing his towel. He walks over to his closet as Ames bursts out of the bathroom with Kaelins toothbrush and soap in his hand and shoves them into the suitcase with the clothing.

"Put on clothes, c'mon!" Ames barks with increasing impatience as he closes the suitcase. "Something light. You know how much hotter it will be there."

Kaelins heart sinks to his stomach with the word "there". Emotions that he keeps well-hidden and away most days start to bubble up inside him. He tries to shove them back down as he grabs a dark grey shirt and black pants, but he feels weak and nauseous as he tries to put them on. With Ames watching him with impatient fury from the end of the bed, Kaelin puts on black shoes with shaking hands, his fingers fumbling on the straps. When he stands back upright he meets Ames' stare with a clenched jaw. Ames' fury flickers away as his jaw clenches as well. The two men look at each other with a silent understanding of each other's feelings for a moment before Ames grabs the handle of the suitcase and takes it roughly off of the bed and he turns his back on Kaelin. He hesitates slightly before quickly walking out of the room. Kaelin follows.

How could he have truly forgotten so easily what today is? He supposes that his brain just shuts it out automatically as it does with so many things. But no matter how hard his mind tried it could escape the reality of today and the days that will follow.

Today is the day he takes the train back to District 11.

Tomorrow is the day he will see his mother.

And the day after that is the Reaping for the 27th Hunger Games.


	3. District 11 - Marri

**District 11 – Marri**

**. . . . .**

There is a strict curfew at night in District 11, but if you are stealthy enough and know the right ways to go like Marri Harken does, one can be out of their home at night unseen.

It is a little after 10:00 when Marri's aunt, uncle, and cousin are finally passed out drunk in the house that she if forced to live in with them. Only her aunt is in her actual bed, as usual. Her uncle finally lost consciousness at the small kitchen table. It is only Derik that poses a problem tonight as he has passed out in Marri's bed where he forced her to lay with him. With the sound of him snoring comes at last, she peels his arm off of her and drops it to his side as she sits herself up. Carefully and silently, she brings herself up to her knees and reaches her arms up to her small single bedroom window. With practiced ease she lifts herself up and through it, landing softly on the dry grass outside.

Keeping herself low, she travels quickly through her normal route around others homes and trees while keeping out of sight of the Peacekeeper posts. If she had the time right, the Peacekeepers wouldn't be doing another round for another 10 minutes or so, but she didn't take the chance to take her time. She pauses to hide behind her usual spots in case she is wrong, looking around to make sure the coast is clear before moving on. After about 15 minutes of creeping through the darkness, she reaches the destination that would have taken her 5 minutes to reach in the day time.

The light is still on in the small shack by the stream that is half covered by two trees and an overgrown bush. With no Peacekeepers in sight, Marri approaches the shacks front door and knocks twice, pauses, then knocks three times.

The crooked wooden door opens and Gragg appears before her, his face wearing his normal grumpy expression but with a lit rolled cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He looks down at Marri with no change in expression and then turns his back on her and walks away with the door still open. Marri smiles to herself as she climbs the two uneven wooden steps and enters the shack, closing the door behind her.

Without either of them saying a thing, Gragg sits himself down in one of his two wooden chairs positioned by the large tree stump that he uses as a coffee table and Marri sits in the other. On the flat stump surface is a small light blue bag, a small black dish, a box of matches, and a few scattered small rectangular white papers. Gragg bends in his seat to place his cigarette into the black dish and pick up the bag and a single white paper. Marri still wears a small smile on her face as she silently and patiently watches Gragg roll a cigarette. She watches how he carefully holds the paper as he sprinkles the tobacco from the blue bag onto it, then roll it carefully with his fingertips, then lick it twice before finishing the roll. Once he is finished he holds the cigarette with the fingers of one hand as he looks at Marri with serious eyes.

"Your lip is swollen." He says gruffly but quietly.

Marri bites her swollen bottom lip gently. "It doesn't hurt." She replies with a smile.

Gragg grunts, looks at her for another moment, then hands her the rolled cigarette. Marri thanks him as she takes it. Gragg reaches down at the table again to grab the matches. He takes one out and strikes one, then holds the fire towards Marri who puts the cigarette between her lips and inhales as she lights its end with the fire.

Gragg picks up his own cigarette from the dish and brings it to his mouth. The two of them smoke silently together until Gragg finishes his and stubs it out in the black dish.

"You're too young to be smoking." Gragg says.

Marri giggles a bit as she lets out a lung full of smoke. "You keep saying that but you keep giving me these."

Gragg makes a disgruntled gesture but says nothing. Even though he doesn't say it, Marri knows that he knows, or at least has a good guess. Out of everyone in District 11, Gragg is the only one that has ever suspected that something is wrong with Marri and her family. Whether or not that he thinks that it is her uncle or if it is her cousin she does not know. But she is sure that he doesn't suspect the truth, that it is both. Marri knows that Gragg lets her come to his shack and smoke with him because he feels sorry for her. He must think that smoking tobacco will help with her stress like he thinks it helps with his. He never offers her alcohol because Gragg stopped drinking years ago when his wife died. Even if he did Marri wouldn't take it. Alcohol makes her think of her so-called "relatives".

As Marri takes her last drag of her cigarette she wonders if Gragg knows how much she appreciates him letting her come here. It was the only place she could go that's indoors that wasn't her aunt and uncle's house, the place she hated being in the most even if everyone else was asleep or gone.

Tonight the two unlikely friends are avoiding the topic that everyone in District 11 is avoiding: The Reaping. It is now only a day away, and with Marri still being of age to be chosen, the atmosphere is slightly tense with that knowledge. In order to break the tension, Marri asks, "Do you think it will rain soon?"

"I damn well hope so." Gragg answers. "I'm lucky that I live by the stream, but even that is going to be dried up soon if we don't get some damn rain."

The young girl and the old man continue to complain about the lack of rain and the heat together as Gragg rolls them each a new cigarette. The conversation changes to less negative topics, or at least topics that don't make them whine or get angry, as they fill the small shack with smoke. Time passes comfortably until Gragg starts to cough uncontrollably into his fist and Marri tells him that they both had enough for the night and that he should keep his windows to air out the shack while he sleeps. Gragg just waves her off, but Marri is confident he will do as she says. She smiles and says good night to him. He grunts and tells her not to get caught by the Peacekeepers on her way back. Marri is more worried that she will get home to an awoken Derik, furious at her absence. Marri almost doesn't notice the extra-long look that Gragg gives her as she leaves. It is a solemn look, a worried look, a look that warms Marri's heart as she attempts the dangerous trip home.

But she avoids both Peacekeepers and any conscious members of her house when she returns. She is able to get in through her window and onto her bed without disturbing a still sleeping Derik who has luckily turned onto his other side. Knowing full well that if she slept anywhere else she would receive a beating in the morning, Marri positions herself on the bed with her back firmly against the wall as far from Derik as the bed will allow. It is not comfortable to fall asleep so close to someone she hates so much, and as Marri stares at the back of her cousin she allows herself to finally think of The Reaping. Her mind wanders into a fantasy, the sight of the stage on Reaping Day, the announcer reaching their hand into the bowl of names written on little pieces of paper, pulling one out and reading the name Derik Harken for all to hear.

But when she finally falls into her light sleep, a sleep that never feels like she has slept at all, she dreams her normal dreams. While every other eligible kid is having nightmares about their names being called at the Reaping and their parents have nightmares that their child will be chosen, Marri dreams of being chased mercilessly by her angry uncle or cousin. She dreams of trying to run but her legs won't move. She dreams of drowning, being held under water by a male hand on her head pushing down. She dreams of terrible words and faces, of terrible feelings that seem to never go away. She wakes gasping in a cold sweat after every one only to fall back asleep and into another.

If she could think of it, Marri would rather dream of the Reaping than have the nightmares that she has every night in this bed. But her mind is too overwhelmed to allow the horrors that haunt everyone else around her enter. To her, the Reaping will be just another day.


	4. The Train - Kaelin

**Train – Kaelin**

**. . . . .**

The sky outside the wide windows of the train is changing colors. The blue has faded into dark purple, the color brightening to a vibrant pink as it gets closer to the setting sun. The staff on the right side of the train who notice have stopped to take a short break to enjoy the sight of a beautiful sunset, but the only two passengers who are sitting across from each other by such a window notice but neither care.

It is a long ride from the Capitol to District 11 even if one is traveling on the fastest train in Panem, and the two passengers are enduring the hours that pass in dark quiet, the older man stuck in his mind full of dark thoughts.

Kaelin has been coming down from his high for a short while now. The effects of the drugs he smoked in the car on the way to the train station have almost completely worn off. He had been successful in hindering his mind from going down a similar path as Ames by listening to music with a high mind and relaxed body. It had been almost nice.

But now that the high is almost gone and with Ames confiscating the rest of his stash before boarding the train, Kaelin starts to feel panic rise from his stomach to his heart. His muscles start to clench as well as his jaw. He pulls the plugs from his ears with one hand as he turns off the music with his other. For the first time since the train began to move he looks at Ames.

Ames has his elbow on the arm rest next to the window, his fist up and pressing firmly against his mouth as he is resting it on it. The pressure from his fist moves the flesh around his mouth in a way that increases the frown it is wearing. His eyelids are drooped, but his eyes are intense and very much awake below them as he stares out at nothing through the train window. Kaelin can actually feel Ames's mood radiating from him. The feeling makes his heart skip as it increases the panic trying to claw up through his abdomen like dozens of talons clinging and pulling as they climb.

Ames notices Kaelins stare and his eyes flash to meet it as the rest of him remains unmoved. Kaelin looks away.

Neither of them say anything to the other for a few long moments as the darkening scenery whooshes by in a blur beside them. Then Kaelin abruptly grabs the jacket he left in a ball on the seat beside him, pulls it to his lap, and his long fingers scramble through it in order to find the right pocket and what is inside. He finds what he is looking for, a small silver box with no label, takes it out of the pocket and immediately flips open its lid to empty its contents into the palm of his hand.

Ames is watching him, and as his eyes see the long blue pill that lands in Kaelins hand he lifts his crumpled mouth away from his fist just enough to speak audibly.

"Don't take that." He says, his voice still muffled against his clenched fingers.

Kaelin ignores him as he presses the button that summons one of the train staff, the long blue pill clutched in his fist.

As if she were waiting by the door with bated breath, a young skinny woman with long green hair tied tight in a ponytail appears wearing a waitress uniform and an obnoxious and eager smile. "Yes, what can I get for you sir?"

Kaelin orders a large and highly alcoholic beverage in monotone without looking at her. Her beady eyes blink rapidly in attempt to hide their disappointment that Kaelin Falysse is not taking notice of her. Then she darts them to Ames, who is staring Kaelin down and giving off an aura so intimidating that the waitresses voice squeaks when she asks, "And anything for you sir?"

"No." Ames says deeply into his fist, his eyes growing darker as they glare at his fellow passenger sitting across from him.

The waitress hastily retreats, then returns shortly with Kaelins drink. Even though she hands it into Kaelins own hand he still does not look at her, and the green haired waitress leaves with her cheesy smile replaced with a pout.

Kaelin takes a long sip of the drink as Ames watches. Then he unfurls his other hand.

"Don't fucking take that." Ames says, his voice deep and low. Kaelin gives up avoiding his gaze and looks to Ames with an incredibly bored expression.

Ames tilts his forehead down and looks up under his eyelids at Kaelin. Then he releases his face from his fist at last and leans back against his seat, his forearm dropping and dangling as it relaxes on the arm rest. "Why do you even want to take that? It makes you sweat so much you stink and look like shit."

Kaelin continues to look bored as he lazily shrugs. "So?"

"So I don't want to sit across from a greasy pile of shitty kid." Ames replies. "And that drink's just gonna make it worse."

Kaelin hadn't thought of the alcohol adding to the dehydration his body would go through after taking the long blue pill. As much as he wants to take it and as much as he wants to continue to annoy Ames, he decides against taking it. He puts the blue pill back in the case, but then quickly takes out a small round pink pill, quickly pops it into his mouth, and then swallows it down with his drink. He takes a few extra-long gulps as his looks over his glass to see Ames looking at him with his mouth open in surprise and annoyance.

Kaelin lowers his half empty glass from his mouth with his eyes still on Ames. Ames stares at him for a moment with an expression that clearly says _you sneaky jackass_ before he says, "You just took a Zenoif, didn't you?"

Kaelin looks lazily out the window.

"I think I'm going to have to really punch you right now." Ames says.

Kaelin turns his face from the window back to Ames with an amused smile. "You want me to have a bruise for the Reaping?"

"I'll hit you in the back of the head, how bout that?" Ames replies. "Then that pretty face of yours can still look nice for all your fans in the Capitol and I can still feel better by hitting that stupid head of yours."

Kaelin gives a short laugh, knowing full well that Ames would never actually hit him not matter how many times he threatens him, which is often. As Ames watches Kaelin laugh, he finds it hard to keep up his stern and angry act, his eyes smiling slightly. "You _asshole_." He says. "You know I hate it being around you when you take that shit."

"Who said you have to sit with me?" Kaelin says, his humor gone from his face as he looks back out the window at the pinkless sky. "There's an entire train full of seats you can sit in, you didn't have to pick that one."

Ames lifts his eyebrows. He waits a moment to see if Kaelin says anything else, but he remains silent."Oh, well _excuse_ me for sitting with you." Ames says with dramatic sarcasm, a slight tone of hurt in his voice. He stands up from his seat and looks down at Kaelin. "I'll just go sit somewhere else then, you little brat." He turns and walks across the train car room, opens the door, and leaves.

Kaelin sighs. Though he won't admit it even to himself, he is finding himself feeling very lonely now that Ames left. The room feels bigger and emptier now that he has left it. Though they bicker constantly like siblings, Ames is the closest thing that Kaelin has to a friend. He had purposely said what he said so Ames would leave, knowing that they would just further get on each other's nerves if he had stayed, as the two would take out their dark anxiety out on one another. He had thought that with Ames and his dark energy gone he would feel less pressure surrounding him, but he feels the same as he sits alone. He is beginning to feel the effect of the alcohol he has drank which reminds him of the drink itself, which makes him take the glass to his mouth. He keeps it there until the glass is empty, and he waits for the little pink pill to hit him as well.

An hour later he is on the ground of the forest. He can feel the dirt and sticks beneath his back. He is surrounded by the fog that is so thick he can barely see two feet in front of him. But what he feels the most are the strong hands whose fingers are curled in the front of his shirt and the heavy weight of the body they are connected to on his legs. Kaelin is panting fast and hard. His heart is beating faster than it ever has in his life. All he can hear is his blood rushing and thumping like thunder in his ears.

_He wants to kill me._

He musters all his strength and energy as he attempts to flail his limbs in any direction in order to hit him or knock him off or just even loosen his grip on his shirt. But he is stronger than Kaelin, much stronger. His legs that are pinning down his own feel as heavy as a boulder. He is so trapped, so helpless, so terrified. The sensation of tears forming in his eyes is a new feeling but one he recognizes. The warmth and water that fill his sight is almost as surprising as the sudden attack that lead him here. The tears mean something terrible. The tears mean that this is it. They mean that he has given up any hope of ever getting free. The tears mean that he is finally going to die.

Over the thunderous pumping of blood in his ears he can hear the strange accent of District 2, a voice deeper than his own, a voice full of triumph and glee. "Thought you got away, huh?" The voice says as he laughs darkly. "I knew you wouldn't stay hidden for long. I knew I'd find you."

His mind's eye plays the worst memory it has as he hears the voice laugh again above him. _He is going to cut me open. He is going to cut me open like he cut the girl from his own District. I'm going to see my organs before I die. _The thought makes his body flail uncontrollably with fear, but it is useless against the older boy on top of him. Even with his arms free they can not reach the boy's face or neck. He is too weak to even move the thick arms that pin him down into the ground where the ends of sticks and twigs dig sharply into his back.

Kaelin starts to scream. He screams and flails frantically with all of his might, with energy he doesn't have or feel. His feels a pop inside his head that makes him feel suddenly light headed, as if all of the blood had suddenly drained from it. He feels his body continue to fight as if it isn't his own.

Then there is darkness.


	5. Before The Reaping - Ames and Kaelin

**Before The Reaping – Ames and Kaelin**

. . . . .

The train arrived in District 11 exactly on time, as it always did, going the same fixed speed with never a delay. Ames wasn't sure if it was better or worse to know the exact amount of time you will spend waiting while experiencing horrible dread.

He waited until the train came to a full stop before he stood, not really in a rush to get off. Before making his way to exit, he went back to where Kaelin was sitting, wanting to see if he was knocked out.

Ames did find that Kaelin was asleep, but his face and neck were sweaty, his expression was tight, and his body was slightly jerking. Ames knew immediately that Kaelin was having one of his night terrors. He quickly put his hands on Kaelins sweaty arm and shoulder and shook him. "Kae. Kae, wake up." He said gently, but loud enough for Kaelin to hear him in his dreams.

Kaelin's body froze when he woke up, his mind needing a moment to come back to reality as he returned from the hell he was just in. Ames stood up as Kaelin recovered, his body relaxing significantly. "Sorry to shit on you when you're down," Ames said. "But we're here."

Kaelin half grunted and half sighed as he used his fingers to rake the hair out of his face. The roots were also wet with sweat. "Fine." He said. He stood up slowly, Ames backing up to give him room. The two men stood for a moment as Kaelin paused, as if he was trying to pull himself together before he moved again. The moment was brief. Kaelin started walking towards the way to exit. Ames followed.

Ames never really knew what to do when he witnessed Kaelin having a nightmare. It doesn't happen often, as Ames isn't often around Kaelin when he is sleeping. The first time it happened was on one of the many trips on the train after Kaelin won the Hunger Games. Ames had noticed, and had expected, that Kaelin wasn't sleeping. Who does sleep after winning the Hunger Games? Maybe a District 1 kid. But on the day they were traveling back from District 12, Kaelin had dozed off in the seat across from him. Ames left him alone, feeling a bit glad that the kid could finally get some rest despite himself, but then Kaelin started to turn about. He began curling himself into a ball, his face scrunched up hard, his jaw clenched, sweat pouring down his forehead.

Ames knew what it was then, too. He had his own nightmares after he won the Games. Perhaps just living after the Games was a nightmare in itself, but Ames forced himself to live on. And though he never would say it out loud, he knew that he was a force making Kaelin live on as well.

There were hours before The Reaping, and as usual the two sole winners would first go to the houses they had won after the Games. Ames had refused to live in his house from the beginning. He hated it as he hated everything he had been given from _them_. But while his house remained completely furnished and empty in District 11, Kaelin's house was not.

"Say hello to your mum for me." Ames said as he and Kaelin reached the short street where their houses faced each other. Kaelin did not respond, and the two walked in opposite directions as they took heavy steps towards their own front doors.

…..

She was not in the entry hall when he opened the front door. The lights were on and so was the air conditioning. The cold air washed over Kaelin as he took his first step inside and he fought hard against the urge to just step back outside. He felt sick, horribly sick, as he took a few quiet steps forward. _Don't be here. Please don't be here._

Deep down Kaelin always missed his mother. He had never felt love towards anything else but her. But he never wanted to see her, talk to her, or hear from her. While he lived alone in the Capitol he pretended she didn't exist, keeping all memories of her buried and hidden away, for though she was the only person in the world he cared about, there was nothing that made him hate himself more than the sight of his mother.

She was a petite woman, pretty and one of the only people in the entire District that had blonde hair. She had been a teacher at the school and had been very well-liked before Kaelin came along and ruined her reputation. His horrible behavior had reflected so badly on her that people avoided her. Mothers even complained about her teaching their children. It had made Kaelin so angry then, when his mother was mistreated. She was kind and demure and deserved none of it. But his anger only made him more destructive and act out more, resulting in her further persecution.

Even so, she had never stopped loving him. She never stopped being kind. She never raised her voice or hit him or punished him as severely as she should. Instead she gave him love. She smiled at him when no one else would. She hugged him when everyone avoided his touch. For almost his entire life, she was the only person who looked into his eyes without fear, revulsion, or hatred, but her eyes looking into his hurt far more than the looks of others. Her tired blue eyes filled him with guilt and disgust with himself, and made him wish that he had never been born to such a good-hearted woman.

So when she suddenly appeared around the corner down the hall, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of him, the familiar self-loathing filled Kaelins entire body. She looked older and wearier than the last time he had seen her which made him feel even worse. The crow's feet around her eyes were deeper. Her blonde hair was paler and had new silver grey streaks. But her smile was the same, warm and bright, and her arms reached out in front of her as she walked quickly towards him and took him in for a hug that crushed his soul.

"Kae. Kae." She said softly as her lifted chin rested on his shoulder. "I'm so happy to see you." There were tears in her eyes as she broke away to take a good look at him, touching his long hair with the tips of her delicate fingers and her pale blue eyes inspecting his face. "You become handsomer and handsomer every time I see you."

"Hi mum." Was all Kaelin could say with his mouth dry and a ball formed in his throat. But he did smile softly down at her as a deep and bitter part inside of him was happy to see her too.

"Come." She said to him as she turned and began walking from where she came. "I've been making your favorite meal and you look far too skinny. Come, come."

Having no stomach for food or her comforting existence, Kaelin could do nothing but follow her.


	6. Before Reaping - Marri

Before The Reaping - Marri

. . . . .

The morning of The Reaping was always the same in District 11. Quiet. Tense. Heavy with foreboding. And as every child of age rose from their beds after a night of restless sleep or no sleep at all, Marri rose the same.

She was woken by the same horn sounds that rang every morning in District 11, traveling and echoing in the spaces between the wooden shacks and bouncing off the silos, making the horn sounds jumbled as they reached the populations ears. Marri never liked waking up on any day. She always longed for more sleep and comfort on the sack of feathers she slept on, even if she had to share it. But like every other District 11 civilian she was a slave to the day by day routine. The Reaping only came once a year, but it was a routine everyone knew by heart as it was the routine their hearts hated most. But as Marri turned herself lazily over to put her back against her wall she found that she was alone. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes as she allowed her limbs to stretch across the feather sack and dug the side of her face into it, relishing in this rare moment of sleepy solitude.

But the moment was brief.

Without knocking or making any sound of warning of her entering, Marri's aunt practically burst into Marri's tiny bedroom. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She barked. "Get up so you can wash that filthy hair of yours. If you think I'm letting you go out in your normal state today I'll give you a nice red mark on your face to match it."

Marri pushed herself off the bed at once and put her bare feet on the rough wooden floor. But she was too lazy still as she dragged her feet across it, sending a splinter right into her foot below her big toe. She hissed as it stung and she was forced to hobble out of the bedroom, through her aunt and uncles shack and towards the back door. Once outside she found the wash tub filled with soapy dirty water. Privacy was made by sheets draped over a line as they dried in the breeze.

"Well go on then." Her aunt said as she suddenly appeared behind her. "Derik took his bath an hour ago. Hurry up so you can empty it."

How her aunt thought that Marri would ever get clean in dirty used water she did not know, but though it thoroughly disgusted her to sit in a tub filled with Derik's filth, Marri was used to it. So she undressed and stepped into the lukewarm water. She began to scrub herself with the used bar of soap and brush fervently. She took the pale beside the tub to fill it with water to dump over her head and she massaged suds into her hair and over her face. She did her best until she was as satisfied as she could get. Then, her foot wrinkled from the water, she tried to dig out the splinter with her short finger nails, but with no success. Feeling the pressure of time, she got out and grabbed the towel that hung beside the door, still slightly damp from when Derik used it, and attempted to dry herself off.

A realization hit Marri suddenly that made her panic. She had forgotten to bring her dress and clean underwear outside with her. She knew that if her aunt saw her go in the house with her dirty nightwear on she would make her wash again, and just wearing the towel was out of the question. Her eyes darted to the sheets that hung on the wire and then she grabbed one off, rushing in order to wrap it over her shoulders and fully covering her body. Her aunt would be furious if she saw this, so Marri walked past the back door to her bedroom window.

It was an awkward effort to climb while holding onto a sheet, and she finally made it inside after her fourth attempt. She let the sheet fall to her bed as she stepped off of it and to the short where her few items of clothing were hung. Her pairs of dirty white work clothes, her plain school uniform, and kept clean apart in a special place at the end was her only dress.

Despite the purpose it was used for, Marri loved this dress. It was one of her most precious possessions for it had been her mothers. Her mother had been small like Marri, petite and skinny, but her mother had first owned the dress when she was 20 years old so it had always been too big for Marri. It had an empire waist with a tie that Marri had to wrap around herself twice before she tied it in the back, tight enough to keep it on her frail frame. The neckline was straight across but the inch thick straps always needed to be pinned in the back for them to not slide off her bony shoulders. The length of the dress was intended to reach a bit above the knees, but in the years Marri had worn it the bottom always fell below them. The material was thin and light cotton and had been a soft rose color once, but time had faded the color to just a whisper of pink. But still, even with all of the work needed in order to wear it, Marri loved to put this dress on every year. This, of course, was a secret to everyone besides herself, for if her aunt knew how she felt about this dress she could surely ruin it as a punishment at any time. And so, as with each of her precious things, Marri hid her feelings for them from everyone, and she thought on this as she took the dress off its hanger and put it on.

She slid the dress over her head and let it fall on her. She gently took the cotton sash that she wrapped around her waist and pulled each end behind her and tied one tight knot and then a bow. The material could have easily wrapped around her waist once more with plenty extra to tie, but this year Marri made the loops of the bow big and long as they hung down the back. To her surprise, she found that the shoulder straps, though still too long, were not long enough to pin, and the bottom of the dress was high enough to show part of her knees for the first time.

Marri walked towards the large shard of what once had been a full length mirror that was propped against the wall in her tiny rectangular bedroom. She watched it until her reflected image entered it, moving slowly until she was in full view, holding her breath until she took in the full sight.

The dress almost fit her this year. Though it was still loose, the tied waste better served its purpose. She gave herself a small proud smile as she adjusted it and thought of her mother. Had this dress ever showed her mother's whole knees, or had she been too short like Marri was? She liked to wonder about these things, and she could have lost herself in her thoughts, but a new reflection crept silently behind her.

He said nothing, but placed both hands on her shoulders and Marri knew that Derik could feel her shudder beneath them. But he just smiled his terrible smile at her in the mirror and caressed his hands down her arms to her wrists, abruptly clutching them violently and jerking her back into his body.

He was dressed and fully dried from his bath, his dark curly hair full of volume and shine from its wash. He wore dark blue trousers and his father's off-white button shirt tucked into them. His face was expressionless.

"You look good in that dress." He muttered so close to her ear she could feel his breath. She felt a wave of nausea as she looked in the mirror from his face to her own.

It was the first time Marri had ever seen herself when Derik touched her. She saw how her eyes strained with fear, her mouth press into a tight line, and her skin turn pale. Seeing her own reaction just made her feel sicker, and she darted her eyes away from her reflection to the floor as she guessed with dread where Derik's hands would wander next.

"But your hair is a mess." He said, and with a little push he shoved her towards the mirror. He turned himself around, walked out her bedroom door and said, "Fix it."

Marri looked at herself in the mirror and saw that he was right. She had forgotten to brush it after washing, and it was beginning to dry in an unflattering form. Marri rushed to grab her brush and pulled the bristles harder than necessary through her short hair, pulling at all of the tangles making her scalp sting. She made a neat side part that set her long side bangs sweeping over the eyebrow of her left eye. She continued to brush it slowly as she knelt on her bed with her head by her open window, allowing the breeze and hot sunlight that came in to dry her thick hair.

Marri stayed like this for some time, how long she did not know. She shook her hair apart with her fingers and then smoothed it with her brush over and over again, her mind emptied of everything else, becoming perfectly numb.

Marri was accustomed to only having unwelcome guests enter her room, and once again her aunt barged in. She carried a plate with two pieces of toast with a small scoop of scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee milk. "Eat." She barked, then left.

Marri stared at the food as she took his offer in her hands and she felt instantly nauseous again. She drank half of the cup of coffee milk before she attempted to bite the toast, which tasted dry and hard in her mouth. She had to follow each bite with more coffee milk in order to swallow it down without choking. The eggs were cold and spongy, but at least they didn't taste bad.

Marri turned her focus back on the breeze that came in from the window. It felt pleasant as it played with her hair, making its ends tickle all around the middle of her neck. She thought about her mother's hair, so different from her own. It had been long and straight and blonde while Marri's was wavy and light brown. Marri wondered if her hair was like her fathers, a man she had only seen when she was too young to remember. Or had his hair been like his sister, Derik's mother, almost black with thin with ugly wiry curls? Marri hoped it wasn't. She hoped that her father was nothing like her aunt. But she had always felt in her heart that he had been nothing like her, for the man her mother loved had to of been a wonderful man with beautiful hair. She felt sure of it.

But thinking of her aunt made Marri realize something, she had not emptied the tub as she was ordered. Abandoning the remains of her breakfast, Marri dashed out the window and to the back of the shack, relieved to see that no one was standing there waiting to harass her.

Marri carried the dirty tub water down a slope and yards away to the stream, careful not to splash any of it on her dress. The sun was growing hot even though it was still fairly early in the morning, but as Marri reached the stream and poured the water in, she was suddenly covered in shade.

She looked up to the sky and saw a giant, beautiful cloud covering the sun. The whole sky was filled with clouds. Could they mean that rain was finally coming? Would the workers of District 11 finally get some relief from the heat on this terrible day?

"Marri." A solemn voice said. Marri looked down from the sky and over her left shoulder at the man walking towards her. She smiled genuinely Mr. Jakes, one of her teachers. Marri liked Mr. Jakes very much. He was a rather short man, only a few inches taller than her, with thick graying hair and big gray bushy eyebrows. His skin was not as dark and leathery as the other white men in the District as he did most of his working indoors, but his forehead was wrinkly from furrowing and thinking and from peering his small twinkling eyes at his students.

Mr. Jakes' eyes were not twinkling now, and Marri felt her heart become heavy as she instantly knew what he was feeling. Many of the adults felt sorry and sad for the children in the District on Reaping Day, but Mr. Jakes felt more than others. His job was working with the children of the District, and though he had no children of his own, he felt special connections with all of them. And though neither of them would ever admit it, both Marri and Mr. Jakes knew that she was one of his favorite students.

So Marri wished with all her being at Mr. Jakes that he would not become emotional with her now. She had become so very good at becoming and remaining numb, but she wasn't sure if she could fight off kind Mr. Jakes. She stood up straight with her muscles tensed and she held her breath as she braced herself for his words.

Mr. Jakes stopped walking a few feet away from her, looked up to the sky, and then looked into Marri's eyes. "I think we will finally get some rain, don't you?"

It was an unexpected remark but Marri still held her defenses. She nodded. "Gosh, I hope so. If not they'll have to start using our drinking water to water the crops."

Mr. Jakes nodded seriously and then gestured to the stream. "That stream's almost dried up. I'm surprised you got any water to fill that tub."

"We've been filling it slowly all week to prepare for today." Marri told him.

Mr. Jakes nodded and sighed. _Here it comes, _Marri thought.

"I finished grading those math tests last night." Mr. Jakes said. "I don't mind telling you that you got an A." He smiled a proud smile.

Marri smiled wider as she clapped her hands together once. "Oh! Thank goodness! I used the problems you helped me with to study. I wasn't sure if I would do well."

Mr. Jakes gave a small laugh. "When have you ever not done well in school?"

Marri shrugged, embarrassed.

Mr. Jakes took two careful steps towards her as he subtly checked their surroundings. Though no one else was around he still whispered as he said, "And I read what you gave me. Very well done, you comprehended it perfectly."

Marri knew of what he was speaking of. Mr. Jakes was someone who successfully kept and hid some of his books before the rebellion, a serious crime. A few months previously he had allowed Marri in on his secret in order for her to read them, one by one, and then write an essay after she finished as extra schooling. Marri had been dumbfounded by the honor of Mr. Jakes trusting her as well as thinking highly enough of her intellect to risk his life for her to learn.

Marri's anticipation of Mr. Jakes talking about the Reaping made her forget about this paper entirely, and once reminded her defenses crumbled entirely under her surge of excitement. She had been eagerly waiting to talk about the book Mr. Jakes had lent her, The Hobbit by a man named J.R.R. Tolkein, for the past couple of days.

"It was wonderful!" Marri said enthusiastically, but Mr. Jakes reaction to her made her cower. She forgot to control herself and had allowed her body language to communicate freely. If anyone else had seen her she would have created great suspicion, especially on this day. But she composed herself instantly and gave an apologetic look to Mr. Jakes, who calmed. "It's my favorite story so far." She continued in a low whisper and a casual stance. "You said he wrote other books?"

Mr. Jakes matched Marri's casual air and nodded slowly. "If you come by tomorrow night I will give you the first book of three more." He spoke as if he were still commenting on the weather.

It was hard for Marri not to show her excitement, but she managed to contain herself. She loved the books Mr. Jakes gave her. She got lost so deep into these fictional stories that she could, for once, escape her reality and herself. The promise of three more stories made her almost positively giddy.

But the wonderful feeling was forced to be crushed, as beyond the student and her teacher a horn sounded once for all to hear. It signaled that it was time for the District to collect themselves in the center. It was time for the Reaping to begin.


End file.
